The greenish mist snaking through the wreckage of the Bosnian plane wasn’t just chemical; it was a veil. Henry, Kane, and Elena descended the slope cautiously, their boots sinking into the soft soil covered in pine needles and metal fragments.

  — Henry, look — Elena stopped, pointing to the trunk of a nearby tree.

  Embedded in the wood, nearly invisible, was a thin ceramic dart. There was no blood, but the bark around the impact point seemed to have withered instantly. Henry leaned in close but did not touch the object.

  — Blowgun — he whispered. — This isn't the Crusaders' handiwork. Malakor prefers noise and terror. This... this is precision.

  — The Wraiths — Kane said, his voice barely audible. He adjusted his saw-gauntlets but didn't turn them on. The sound of the saws would be a dinner bell for the nomadic hunters. — I’ve heard stories about Spaniards who crossed the ocean in sailing ships to "reclaim the land." They say the forest accepted them.

  Suddenly, the wind shifted. The smell of oxidized metal was replaced by the scent of damp moss and bitter herbs.

  — They’re already here — Henry stated, clenching his fists.

  He couldn’t see them, but he felt them. The environment, once merely silent, now felt vigilant. The vegetation wasn't just scenery; it was armor. Between the shadows of the pines and the plane wreckage, shapes began to materialize—not like people stepping out of hiding, but as if the ground and the leaves themselves were taking human form.

  They were the Wraiths. Their ghillie suits blended perfectly with the terrain, turning them into blurs of green and brown under the moonlight.

  From the top of a twisted airplane wing, a figure stood out. He wore no mask of wood or metal, but his face was painted with natural pigments that mimicked the forest shadows. Major Ghost observed the Heretics with a frigid calm, holding his ceramic blowgun as naturally as if it were an extension of his own body.

  — You walk with the weight of metal, Heretics — Major Ghost’s voice was a raspy whisper, his Spanish accent still present after years of isolation. — The ground groans beneath your boots. The iron in your hands screams to return to the earth.

  Henry took a step forward, keeping his hands visible to show he didn't intend to strike first, but without lowering his guard.

  — Major Ghost — Henry greeted, recognizing the legend's authority. — We didn't come for the iron. We came for the medicine and the fabrics. People are dying of cold and infection in Oregon.

  — That which dies serves as fertilizer for that which is born — the Major replied, descending from the wing with supernatural lightness. He stopped a few meters from Henry. — Civilization is a disease that gunpowder tried to cure with fire. We are the recovery. What fell from the sky now belongs to the forest.

  Henry looked at the wreckage, where the green smoke seemed to be controlled or utilized by the Wraiths.

  — If you keep everything, the balance you preach so much will end — Henry retorted, his voice rising. — Because if the people of Oregon don't have these supplies, they will come to the forest en masse to hunt whatever is left. And they won't come with the silence of the Heretics. They’ll come with the torches of the Crusaders.

  Major Ghost narrowed his eyes, his bone knife gleaming faintly. The tension between the metal of the Heretics and the fiber of the Wraiths was a hair's breadth from snapping.

  The Major gave a wry smile, but his eyes remained as cold as winter in the Pyrenees. He spun the ceramic blowgun between his fingers with hypnotic dexterity before stowing it in a rawhide holster.

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  — You are mistaken, blue warrior — the Major said quietly. — We did not bring down this bird. We only came to observe the corpse. What brought this to the ground was not the silence of our forest, nor the noise of your rivals of the Cross. It was something... surgical. A military power that should no longer exist in these lands.

  Henry exchanged a quick look with Elena. If it wasn't the Crusaders or the Wraiths, the list of suspects in Oregon was getting dangerously short—or gaining a new, invisible name.

  Major Ghost walked slowly around the group, stopping in front of Kane Sterlow. He evaluated the Englishman’s physique and the weight of the powered-down saw-gauntlets on his wrists.

  — You — the Major pointed the bone knife at Kane. — You move with the lightness of one who knows the heights, but your hands smell of oil and metal. I propose a deal. A way to decide who deserves the inheritance of this disaster without wasting more blood than necessary.

  The camouflaged hunters began to emerge fully from the vegetation, forming a dark, organic circle around the wreckage. They were figures that seemed made of moss and bark.

  — A duel — the Major decreed. — Hand-to-hand. No saws, no neurotoxins. Only strength and instinct. If your scout beats me, you take 70% of the medical supplies and fabrics. If he falls... the forest claims its own, and you return to the underworld empty-handed.

  Kane looked at Henry, seeking confirmation. The Englishman released the latches on his gauntlets, letting them fall heavily onto the green-smoke-covered ground. He began to stretch his shoulders, his face expressionless.

  — 70% is food and medicine for hundreds of people, Henry — Kane said, dropping his coat and green mask to the ground. Standing only in a dark tank top, he revealed tense muscles and scout scars. — I accept.

  — Kane, be careful — Henry warned in a low voice. — They don't fight like us. They fight like animals protecting territory.

  Major Ghost also stretched, giving the signal.

  — Let the earth decide who is worthy — the Major shouted.

  The duel was about to begin, under the emerald smoke and the watchful eyes of fifty invisible hunters.

  — No metal. No tricks — Major Ghost said, taking a low, almost animalistic combat stance. — Only what nature gave you.

  The fight began without warning. Major Ghost didn't rush; he glided. His movement was erratic, making it difficult for Kane to predict the next step. The Major's first strike was an open-palm slap aimed at Kane's ear—a move designed to disorient. Kane dodged by millimeters, feeling the rush of air, and countered with a quick low kick, which the Major absorbed with his shin as if it were made of oak.

  The fight was a display of technique. Major Ghost used Silat and jungle fighting moves, trying to take Kane to the ground, where the mud and roots favored the hunter. Kane, on the other hand, used parkour to turn the environment into his weapon. He leaped over a piece of twisted wing, using the momentum to come down with a flying knee.

  The Major blocked the impact, but Kane’s weight forced him back three meters.

  — Not bad, scout — the Major growled, spitting blood. — But you still breathe like a city man. Too much rhythm, not enough instinct!

  Major Ghost lunged with a sequence of knife-hand strikes, targeting Kane's nerves and joints. The English scout felt his left arm go numb after a precise touch from the Major. The fight was evenly matched; Kane had youth and explosiveness, but the Major had decades of survival experience.

  Kane realized that if he continued this trade of blows, he would eventually succumb to exhaustion. He needed a finishing move.

  Simulating a stumble on an exposed root, Kane opened his guard. Major Ghost, seeing the opportunity to end the duel, lunged for a finishing strike. At the last millisecond, Kane used his leg flexibility to pivot on the ground, grabbing the Major’s ankle and using the Spaniard's own weight to unbalance him.

  As the Major fell, Kane didn't let go. He climbed onto the back of the Wraiths' leader, applying a technical rear-naked choke and tightening the grip with a force that made his own veins pop.

  Major Ghost struggled, trying to dig his fingers into Kane’s arms, but the scout locked the hold with his legs. The silence in the forest became absolute as the two warriors fought for the last breath.

  — It’s over... Major... — Kane hissed through his teeth.

  Major Ghost gave two light taps on Kane’s arm—the universal signal of surrender. Kane released the hold immediately and backed away, panting, while the Wraiths watched in shock as their leader recovered on the ground.

  Major Ghost rose slowly, massaging his neck. He looked at Kane with genuine respect, something few men had ever earned.

  — The metal on your wrists may be noisy — the Major said, catching his breath — but the spirit in your chest is pure. The deal is sealed. 70% is yours.

  The Revelation of the Void

  Henry approached Kane, offering an arm to help his friend steady himself. He then turned his gaze back to the Major, who was now pointing toward the cockpit, where the green smoke was densest.

  — Take the supplies — Major Ghost said, his voice returning to a tone of authority. — But know that what downed this plane did not come for fabrics or morphine. They came for what was in the armored safe in the cockpit.

  Henry walked to the cockpit opening, climbing through the wreckage. The titanium alloy safe, designed to withstand high-magnitude impacts, was wide open. There were no signs of explosives. The metal appeared to have been cut with thermal precision that left the edges smooth, almost vitrified.

  — The safe is empty — Henry noted, feeling a chill down his spine. — And the cuts... this wasn't done by machetes or improvised tools.

  — Exactly — Major Ghost stood beside him. — Some group with technology that would make your Machinist look like a Middle Ages blacksmith was here minutes before you. They took the "Heart" of the bird. And now that they have it, Oregon won't just go hungry... it will burn.

  Henry looked out at the dark forest. The "mystery group" was out there, and they were far more dangerous than any drugged-up Crusader.

  End of Chapter

  Faction Data (Lore)

  The Wraiths: A group of 50 nomadic Spanish hunters who consider themselves part of the nature that is reclaiming the cities. Their clothing is made of plant fibers and old military camouflage (ghillie suits). They are invisible to ordinary eyes. They use blowguns with natural poisons, silent crossbows, and bone or ceramic knives. They respect the Heretics for their use of silence but consider them "too noisy" because they still deal with the metal of weapons.

  Character Data

  WRAITHS:

  Major Ghost (48 years old, Spanish): Leader of the Wraiths. A former special forces soldier who abandoned technology for nature. He is nearly a legend; many believe he can become invisible. He despises civilization and wants the forest to swallow the cities.